Spencer Reid: Uncensored
by 96 Hubbles
Summary: A series (hopefully) of short fics where Reid opens up just a little bit more than usual. Chapter 4: Something happy.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

 _Ladies and gentlemen, for your dining and dancing pleasure, tonight we present a little tag to episode 7x16_ _"_ _A Family Affair_ _"_ _. Enjoy the show!_

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 **I Love a Girl Called Garcia**

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Reid eyed the team suspiciously as he sat down after coming back from the bathroom. They were _smirking._ "What? What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, quickly giving himself the once-over. "Is there something sticking to me?"

"Oh, no reason," Emily said smugly, while J.J. hummed something that sounded like "Maria, Maria," under her breath.

Reid looked at Morgan, confused.

"Sorry, Pretty Boy, it's just that we never pictured you as a _West Side Story_ fan," Morgan chuckled.

"A _what_ fan?" Reid asked with such genuine confusion that they were suddenly puzzled.

"You know," J.J. said, and then she started to sing: _"_ _'_ _Maria. I just met a girl called Maria_ _…"'_ Henry was singing it this morning right after you left."

Reid's brow furrowed for a half-second, then to their collective surprise, he laughed out loud. "Oh, is _that_ where that's from?" And now the smirk was on his face.

Rossi looked from him to the ladies before the light bulb went on. "So how was babysitting last night?" he drawled, having caught on miles ahead of the others.

"Different than I expected," Reid admitted, the hint of a very wicked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

J.J. shook her head and smiled. "I told you Henry could be a handful, Spence. Watching a child isn't as easy as it looks."

"Actually, _Henry_ was fine. No problem at all. He ate every bite of his dinner and then sat quietly and played with his barnyard set most of the evening. Then I read him a couple of stories before bed and he went out like a light." Reid turned to Morgan and Rossi. "No, it was _these three_ that were the problem children," he said, nodding towards his three female coworkers.

"What?" Emily demanded.

"Hung over pretty bad, were they?" a snickering Morgan asked.

"Oh no - they're hung over _now_ ," Reid clarified. "At sunrise, when they came home, they were still… how did my father used to put it? Oh yeah: 'Lit up like Christmas Trees.' "

The ladies' expressions were rendered so simultaneously aghast that Rossi and Morgan couldn't help but burst out laughing so hard that all the heads of the other patrons at the diner whipped around to stare over at their table. "So let me guess: they're the ones who taught Henry the song?" Rossi finally asked once the place had gone back to the normal background sounds of chatter and clinking cutlery.

"Yep. Well, Emily and J.J, anyway. Which _somebody_ might have known if they'd listened to the actual lyrics Henry was singing."

"Oh, oh, please share the lyrics, Pretty Boy!" Morgan begged. "This I gotta hear!"

Reid made a show of trying to remember. "Let's see, it was all a bit slurred, out of tune and definitely off the beat, but I think it went like this:

 _Garcia!_ (he recited in lieu of singing) _Who brought me a glass of Sangria!*_

 _And suddenly she_ _'_ _s here,_

 _And in her hands, a beer,_

 _For meee!_

 _Garciiiaaah!_

 _Say it loud and there_ _'_ _s liquor flowing,_

 _Say it soft and there are panties showing,_

 _Garciiiiaaah!_

 _She_ _'_ _ll never stop bringing tequila!_

For a full minute, nothing was said. Jaws dangling, the female half of the table gaped at Reid with stunned humiliation, while the male half basked in the warm glow of moral superiority and amusement.

" _Panties_ showing?" Garcia asked, her voice a strangled whisper.

"Naughty, naughty, Miss Garcia," Morgan teased. "I see London, I see France -"

"Please stop!" Garcia begged.

Morgan ignored her. "You know, I literally don't think I've ever been this happy!" he declared. "The BAU ladies, drunk as skunks and singing like goonballs. So was that it then?" he asked, turning to Reid.

"Well, it ended kind of abruptly because J.J. suddenly had to dash outside to…uh…hmm, maybe I shouldn't say that part. But don't worry, J.J. - I hosed off the side of your house. Oh, and you probably won't want to use the roses closest to your front door for your table or, you know, anything inside."

J.J. moaned in despair, while on Reid's left Rossi and Morgan bit their lips in an attempt to keep from laughing out loud again. "So what were Princess and Baby Girl doing while J.J. was…uh, fertilizing her flowerbed?" Morgan wanted to know.

"Emily fell over and onto the floor when her load-bearing fellow inebriate ran out," Reid continued, "and then crawled into the living room and, for some reason I couldn't fathom, kept wanting to give me toy cows that she found in Henry's toy box. And Garcia… Garcia was busy."

"Busy?" Rossi prodded.

" _Busy?_ _"_ Garcia repeated weakly.

"I guess you could say that," Reid said hesitantly, all of a sudden a bit reluctant to open this can of worms any further.

"C'mon Kid, you can't leave it hanging there," Morgan told him.

"Yes he can!" Garcia cried out.

Reid glanced from the men to the women. Chivalry put up a gallant fight, but male bonding won out in the end. "Okay, so while Emily and J.J. were doing their rendition of _West Side Story_ , Garcia went around tapping all of us on the head with her pretend magic wand, saying that she 'was there to bring libations to all the good girls and boys of the world.' After that, she was…well, let's just say that I don't think it would be appropriate to discuss her behaviour here."

"And where _would_ it be appropriate to discuss it?" Rossi asked.

"My guess would be a sexual harassment seminar," Reid answered.

" _Baby Girl!_ What did you do?"

Reid whispered in Morgan's ear. Morgan gasped, "Garcia!" and threw a protective arm around Reid. "Don't worry, Kid. I'll shield you from these lecherous women!"

"Nononononononononono!" a horrified Garcia lamented, dropping her head to the table and nearly upsetting her coffee.

Reid went as wide-eyed as an injured fawn. "It was _awful,_ Morgan! And in front of our little godson too!"

Three gazes snapped up to stare at the genius. So far the remorse had been half embarrassed and half joking, but this was a whole new - and much more serious - level of mortification.

"No! No no no no no!" J.J. protested, holding a finger up at Reid. "My son did not see me drunk! Please, please God, tell me my son did not see me drunk!"

"Oh God! Oh God, what did I do? Tell me!" Garcia pleaded.

"Oh, don't you worry, Miss Naughty Thing," Morgan informed her, "We are definitely going to be having a conversation about _that!_ _"_

"Oh, my little baby G-man saw me dancing around like some kind of… some kind of…"

"Liquor fairy?" Reid suggested.

Garcia looked at him like she was on the verge of tears.

"Sorry," Reid said contritely. "Liquor _Santa?_ "

The ladies glared at him, then hung their heads and started muttering half a dozen " _Never again'_ s" and " _I can_ _'_ _t believe it'_ s".

Reid finally took pity on them. "Look guys, it's okay. Really. Henry didn't understand what was going on. I told him you all had the flu and you were acting silly because you were delirious. Then I sent him in to the other room to watch cartoons while I took care of you. After that, when I finally got you all to lie down, I took him outside and let him play with his soccer ball while I cleaned up. And, okay, he repeated your little song, but I think the worst that'll happen is that J.J. will have some explaining to do to Will - "

"Oh no, _Will!_ _"_ J.J. said with another moan.

"I'm sure he'll just find it funny, J.J," Reid went on, "He's a good guy; he knows you've got just as much right to blow off steam as he does. And after all, it's not as if it's something you do it all the time. And Henry will eventually forget all about this. Honest. Heck, even _I_ don't even remember any of the things that happened to me when I was three."

The ladies were still in misery, but the moaning stopped. The gang ordered breakfast (the ladies talking Reid's suggestion of bacon sandwiches after he explained how the amino-rich bacon would help to replace the neurotransmitters they lost during their binge and therefore lessen their hangovers), and talked about Hotch and Beth, who had gone to eat somewhere else so that Beth and Jack could get to know each other better. When the team was done, and the ladies had split Reid's bill to thank him, they said their goodbyes and all went off in different directions.

Well, almost all.

Reid was cutting across the park to get to the Metro station when he heard J.J. calling for him. "Spence, wait!"

"What's up, J.J?"

"I just wanted to thank you for, you know, _everything_."

"It was no problem, J.J. Henry's a great little boy."

J.J. smiled with pleasure; praise of her angel was always wonderful to hear, even if it was the only thing to be expected from his doting godfather. "Yeah… yeah, he is," she agreed, a little bashfully though. "And I've got to say, Spence, I'm surprised at how good a job you did."

Just for a second, she saw a shadow of hurt flit over his eyes, but he smiled gamely and said, "Thank you," and then turned to head off to his station. J.J. grabbed him by the arm.

"Spence?"

Reid turned around again and squinted in the sunlight, not quite able to look at her. "You know, just because I've never cared Henry on my own doesn't mean I've never cared for _anybody_ on my own," he said softly.

"I…" J.J. looked at him, suddenly realizing she'd hurt him.

"You and Emily…" He broke off, then sighed. "You both looked so horrified when I made the offer."

"No we didn't," she tried to lie.

"C'mon, J.J. Did you really I couldn't tell how quickly you regretted bringing it up? How quickly you wanted to back out of it?"

"Spence, I…"

"I'm a grown man, J.J. I'm an F.B.I. agent and I took care of my mother for years, but you balked at giving me a job that most people regularly trust to thirteen-year-olds." He smiled sadly as tears came to her eyes. It was almost a whisper as he said to her: "If you were really surprised, well then maybe, just maybe, that's because it's easy to surprise people when they have such low expectations of you."

" _Spence -_ _"_

"I'll see you tomorrow, J.J." he said kindly, and went on his way before she could stop him.

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* My apologies to Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim

 _So, yeah, the tone changed a little at the end, but I think that_ _'_ _s because this was a bit of author therapy. That scene on the plane always bugged me a little. I do understand that J.J. and Emily weren_ _'_ _t trying to be mean, but they did seem genuinely appalled at Reid_ _'_ _s offer and if they could have gotten out of it, they would have. I also understand that watching kids is hard work, but hey, I started baby-sitting at fourteen, and frankly I_ _'_ _m an idiot with no particular interest in (or rapport with) children, so if someone like me could do it, I_ _'_ _m sure as Hell Reid could have, and so their second-guessing him seemed insulting to me._

 _Therefore, if Reid seemed a little OOC in this (even while writing it I began to think this was a little too ungallant for his normal behaviour), his slightly weary at the end may explain why. And he was probably up all night worrying about the three, so he_ _'_ _s cranky too._


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: The show persists in not being mine, which I'm sure is as shocking a state of affairs to you as it is to me.

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 **The Reid Effect**

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Spencer Reid was in the break room late that evening when he heard a woman speaking from the bullpen, but it was the indistinct sound of a boy's sullen answer that caused his brow to furrow in puzzlement. Stirring his coffee as he walked, he entered the larger room only to find Jack Hotchner and his aunt.

"Ms. Brooks?" he asked.

Jessica Brooks turned to face him and her harried face lit up with relief. "Oh, Doctor Reid! I'm so glad to see you." Striding quickly over to him, she turned her back on Jack and lowered her voice. "I'm so sorry to ask this, but can you help me? My father's just been taken to the hospital and Agent Anderson says Aaron is in a meeting. Is there any way you could watch Jack until Aaron's finished?" Her voice dropped further, down to a whisper, and Reid noticed she was trembling. "I really need to be there, but I don't want Jack to be…" she broke up, tears coming to her eyes.

"Of course, it's no problem," Reid told her. "Would you like me to get someone to drive you?"

"No, that's all right," Jessica said, already walking towards the exit. "My car's in the shop so Jack and I came in a cab. I told the driver to wait."

"Are you sure?"

Jessica nodded distractedly, then was gone. Reid stood there, coffee in hand, looking after her for a moment, hoping things would turn out okay and at the same time chastising himself for not asking after her father, before turning and realizing that he had absolutely no idea what to do with Jack.

"Sooooo…. Uh, is there anything you want to do while we wait for your Dad, Jack?" Reid asked awkwardly after sitting back down at his desk.

Jack didn't bother to answer. From his expression and the sharp, violent way he was twisting Tara's chair around it was pretty obvious he was in a sulk about something.

Reid hid his nervousness and tried again. "Have you got some school work to do, Jack? I could help you with it if you want."

Jack's answer was a simple and curt, "No."

"I think Garcia's got some computer games in her lair." _And you and Henry might be the only ones she wouldn_ _'_ _t kill me for letting in there,_ Reid thought _._ "Would you like to do that?"

Jack shook his head, not bothering to look at him. Reid knew this was behaviour Hotch would have called the boy on, but he himself had only met Jack a few times and he didn't feel comfortable enough for that.

Besides, Reid was starting to get the feeling that Jack's uncharacteristic attitude had to do with something more than the snappish and snarling beginnings of preadolescence. The boy's whole body language radiated not just anger, but misery.

"I'm sorry your grandfather had to go to the hospital. I hope he'll be okay," Reid said gently.

Jack shrugged. "What do I care? Old people are boring."

Reid hesitated for a moment, trying to decide about whether to push things and risk making them worse, or to just wait out the time in painful silence and let Hotch deal with his son. With a sigh and an inward cringe at what he was potentially getting himself into, he waded in the mire with, "Really? I would have loved the chance to get to know my grandparents better."

"Who cares?" Jack said, shrugging again in an attempt to seem nonchalant, but from the way he turned his head away Reid could tell Jack didn't want him to see that he was close to tears.

"Are you mad at your Grandpa?"

"Look, I said who cares, all right!" Jack shouted, jumping from Tara's chair and stalking off towards the elevators.

"Jack, wait! Where are you going?"

Jack froze and Reid noticed the tightness in the boy's back; he was already tightly wound and now he was practically quivering with embarrassment, likely because he realized that he'd had no idea of where he was going, or even where he _could_ go. Hotch's meeting was in his office, so that left only one other place. Swivelling around, Jack stiffly headed towards the bathrooms as if that's where he'd always intended to go in the first place. Reid, chagrined, quickly followed and stood just outside the door to wait. Checking his watch every twenty seconds or so, Reid managed to hold out for five minutes before he went in.

"Jack? I'm sorry, Jack. I won't talk about your grandfather any more."

No answer.

"Jack, there are no windows and no other doors, so I know you're in here."

Still no response.

"Plus I can see your feet under the stall door."

The tiny hiss of consternation and the hurried sound of Jack clambering up onto the toilet lid would have been funny in other circumstances. Instead, the flustered Reid decided to take the course of desperate babysitters everywhere: outright bribery. "You know, I haven't had my dinner yet."

"So?"

Reid nearly chuckled in relief - a surly answer was at least an answer. "So, I was thinking of going down to the cafeteria for a burger and fries."

"So go," Jack tried, but he was sold out by a sudden stomach rumble.

"Really? So I should go all by myself?"

"Yeah," Jack started to say, but another undeniable grumble limited him to _"_ _Darn it!_ _"_

"Come on out, Jack, and we'll go have some dinner."

"I don't want to!"

"Are you sure? They've got chocolate milkshakes."

Jack huffed and came out, slamming the stall door shut with a bang. " _Okaaaay! Fine_."

After Reid quickly went back to his desk to lock his computer, they went to the cafeteria and proceeded to have an extremely uncomfortable meal until Reid happened to stumble on asking Jack what his favourite video games were. For the next five minutes he listened attentively to an enthusiastic description of something called "Minecraft", before the subject then moved onto Halloween.

"I love Halloween," Reid told him. "The mystery, the wonder - it's a night when all order is suspended and the barriers between the natural and the supernatural are temporarily removed. Best of all: you can be anyone you want to be."

"You still celebrate Halloween, Uncle Spencer?"

"Sure. I mean, I don't go trick or treating, but I still like to do something that night, even if it's just to wear a mask to a scary movie."

"But you're, you know, _old_."

"Getting older doesn't always mean you have to give up the things you like, Jack," Reid said, popping a ketchup laden fry into his mouth. "Besides," he went on after he'd swallowed, "Celebrating Halloween wasn't something I got to do a lot of as a kid, so I'm making up for it now."

Jack looked at him, confused. "Why didn't you celebrate Halloween as a kid?"

"My mom was sick a lot. Well, she still is, but now she lives at a hospital. So I didn't get to go out much."

"Why didn't your Dad take you?"

"He did a couple of times, but… it's difficult to explain, Jack. You see, part of my mother's illness made her scared of strangers, so it bothered her for me to go knocking on a whole bunch of their doors."

"Geez, what kind of being sick does that?"

Reid took a long sip of his milkshake before answering, wondering how deep to get into the subject of his mother's illness. "My mom suffers from something called paranoid schizophrenia. It's a type of mental illness."

"Your mom's crazy?"

Reid grimaced. "Well, a lot of people would say that, but that's not really the right word to use, Jack."

Jack squirmed a little, sensing he'd said the wrong thing. "I'm sorry, Uncle Spencer. I didn't mean to say anything bad about your mom," he apologized.

"It's okay, Jack. You didn't know."

They were silent for a few moments, each picking at what was left of their dinners. "Jonathan at school says my grandpa's crazy," Jack said under his breath.

"Why did he say that?"

"Cause Grandpa was throwing a hissy fit in the car when Aunt Jessica came to pick me up the other day. Grandpa called Mr. Donaldson 'a dirty Commie' and he shot his coffee cup at Ms. Du Maurier's back windshield. He was acting like a crazy person and _everybody saw!_ _"_

"I guess they made fun of you, huh?"

"Yeah!" Jack declared, and his sense of the unfairness of the whole situation was dripping from his tone.

"I'm very sorry that happened to you, Jack."

Jack sniffed and then wiped his nose on his sleeve. Reid passed him a napkin. "Aren't you going to tell me how to fix it?" Jack asked curiously.

"I wish I could."

"But you're the smartest person in the whole world! How can you not know the answer?"

"Well, first off, I'm not the smartest person in the world. And second…" Reid sighed. "And second, there are times when there is no good answer, when all you can do is live through something. I will tell you that in the end, no matter how badly he embarrassed you, your grandfather will still be far more important to you than any one of these kids who made fun of you. In fact, he'll probably be more important than any of the friends you've got right now. He's the one you're going to care about when you're older and the others will seem very unimportant. But that's something you learn with time, and I know from personal experience that it doesn't make this kind of thing any better at all, does it?"

Jack gazed at him intently, not quite sure what was happening. "Aren't you supposed to tell me to tell my teacher or something? That's what adults do, isn't it? Either that, or they give you a lot of dumb sayings and tell you it'll all get better with time."

Reid winced; he probably should have told Jack to talk to someone, but since the few people he'd told had done nothing but brush him off when he was a child, the idea hadn't even occurred to him now. Suddenly he felt very discouraged picturing what kind of father he might make.

"Sorry. That's probably a good idea. I mean, about you talking to someone. You could talk to your Dad or your Aunt Jessica - "

"I don't want to talk to them!" Jack snapped, surprising Reid.

"Why not?"

Jack kicked at the table leg and laid his head down on his arm so he wouldn't have to look at Reid. "Cause they didn't tell me Grandpa is dying! They didn't even tell me he was sick. They just kept lying and lying and saying Grandpa was _tired_ ," he sneered. "He's not _tired_ , he's got _Alzheimer_ _'_ _s!_ I found out when I heard Aunt Jess talking to her friend Shamira. And they kept lying to me even I when got scared cause Grandpa forgot me!"

There was the sound of a chair scraping the floor somewhere behind and off to Reid's left, as if someone was getting up, but Reid didn't notice as he was so intent on Jack. Answering with the first thing to pop into his head, even he was surprised at the words that came out of his mouth: "My mom sometimes forgets me too."

Jack's head shot up, his eyes wide. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Your own _mom_?"

"Yes. Sometimes, she forgets outright. Other times, she remembers that she has a son called Spencer, but she doesn't recognize me as him. Then other times, she thinks she's living in some year in the past, so she doesn't remember me because of course, for her, I haven't been born yet. But no matter why she doesn't remember me, it's still very hard to deal with."

"Does your Dad make you feel better?"

"My Dad was already gone by the time my Mom's illness got to that point."

"Gone? Did he die?"

"No. He just, well, _left_."

"He left you and your mom when your mom was sick?"

"Yes."

"How old were you?"

"I was ten."

"But that's how old I am."

"Yeah."

"Oh." Jack didn't know what to do with this information. "Do you think my Dad or Aunt Jessica will leave cause of Grandpa?" he finally asked.

"Don't worry, Jack. I don't think there's any chance of that at all."

"How come?"

Reid tried to think of what to say. "My father wasn't a bad man - though he may not have been an entirely good one, either - but mostly he ran out on my mom and me because he was a weak one. So, since I grew up with a weak man, I know what they look like, and trust me, your dad isn't one by any stretch of the imagination. That's not to say there won't be times when he's discouraged, times when he'll need you, but I can say with a hundred percent confidence that your dad's not the running away type."

"Okay. Can I ask you something else, Uncle Spencer?"

"Anything, buddy."

"Does your mom not remembering you hurt even now? Even though you're a grown-up?"

"It really does." Reid swallowed down a hard lump in his throat, hugely embarrassed at suddenly having to fight off his own tears. "It hurts like most people wouldn't believe. It makes me feel angry - at her, at life for doing this to her, at other people cause they get mothers who are healthy. It makes me so, so sad, because we can't really have happy times together. It makes me feel incredibly alone, and it makes me feel so…I don't know, _invisible_ , I suppose. When people talk about things like this, they talk about the one who's sick and say it feels like they're going away from them, but I always felt like _I_ was the one who wasn't there. And not like people just couldn't see me, more like I actually didn't exist anymore."

He could see Jack staring at him, stunned, but Reid didn't know why until Jack let out a hushed _"_ _Yeah,_ _"_ as if in awe that someone actually knew exactly what he was talking about.

"But most of the time she does remember me, Jack, so there's something that I try to keep in mind on those times when she doesn't, and that's that her memory of me is still there, it's just sort of locked away sometimes where she can't get at it. And I think that's true of your grandpa too.

"People used to think - a lot still do - that victims of mental illness or Alzheimer's were that way because they were weak-willed, that it was some fault of theirs for not being mentally or emotionally strong enough, but it's not like that. There's a great number of theories about your grandfather's illness," and here Reid was about to launch into a long description of the various hypotheses involving proteins, neurotransmitters, amyloid deposits, and poor functioning of the blood brain barrier, but he stopped at the realization it would likely all be over Jack's head. "But, in any case, the main thing to know is that they're all physical causes.

"Think of it this way: if a disease was attacking your lungs, you'd have trouble breathing, right?"

"Yeah," Jack agreed.

"And if one attacked your legs, then it would be hard or even impossible to walk, right?"

Another nod.

"So if something attacks your brain, like Alzheimer's or schizophrenia or a brain tumour, then it would make it hard to think and remember, don't you think? And because the brain is also where our emotions come from, it also means that sometimes they'll be out of control - which is why your grandpa was getting so upset in the car."

"I guess," Jack conceded, but he sounded a little unsure.

"What I'm trying to say is that your grandpa's memories of you are trapped in one part of his brain, and now they're under attack, like soldiers trying to defend a fort. Sometimes the enemy will win, and your grandpa won't be able to get to those memories, but sometimes his side will win, and he'll know who you are."

Jack considered this. "But eventually he'll lose for good, and the enemy will take the fort, won't they?" a despondent Jack said. "I mean, Grandpa's going to die, isn't he?"

Reid thought about lying, but in the end, he couldn't. "Eventually, yes," he said as gently as he could. "But it can be many years before Alzheimer's finally takes someone, so he might have some time left."

To his surprise, Jack didn't ask how long; whether that was down to his child's mind being too overwhelmed or a very mature acceptance that maybe there was really no point in asking, Reid couldn't say, but with Jack being Hotch's son, he suspected the latter. "It also means it's stupid for people to make fun of sick people," Jack said instead, changing the subject, or at least the direction of the conversation.

"It is. It's stupid, mean-spirited, and pointless, and shows a great deal of ignorance," Reid agreed. "A lot of people might not be trying to be mean, however. Most of them simply don't know any better, like you did with the word _crazy_. I didn't think for a minute you were trying to be insulting - "

"I really wasn't, honest!" Jack interrupted.

"Don't worry, buddy, I know. I just had a fact you didn't yet, right?"

"Yeah."

"And so maybe some of the kids at school are the same way?"

"No! They were jerks! I hate them."

"Well, some probably are jerks. But maybe you could just consider the idea that some of them were acting out because they didn't know any better? Or because new things scare them?"

"Fine," Jack huffed. "I'll think about it." Reid smiled to himself as the little boy managed to let him know just how put out he was simply from the angry way he slurped up the last of his milkshake.

"Are you feeling any better now?"

Jack shrugged.

"Is there something still on your mind?"

"How come Daddy and Aunt Jessica didn't tell me about Grandpa?"

Reid breathed out heavily. "I can only guess," he said, "but there's probably a couple of reasons."

"Like what?" Jack demanded.

"Privacy, for a start. I don't think either your dad or your aunt are ashamed of what your grandfather is going through, but they likely understand that _he_ might not want other people to know yet, and so they want to respect his right to privacy. And then there's fear."

"Fear? But what are they scared of? They're grown-ups!"

"Grown-ups get scared too," Reid pointed out.

"Yeah, I know, but… But they should be less scared than me!"

"When I had to take care of my mom, my stomach was in a tight knot everyday. I wasn't just scared, I was terrified. I was also so worried and exhausted I couldn't think straight; I felt like I wanted to cry all the time. I know I was a kid, but it's like that for adults too. Your Aunt Jess is probably so busy and so scared - and sad; as much as you love your grandpa, this is her father, and she's going to lose him - so she probably can't even imagine trying to deal with anything else right now. Your dad, too. Maybe it's not as scary for him since it's not his father, and he's not taking care of your grandpa the same way, but… well, you know how when you love someone you want to help them?"

"Yeah."

"Your dad loved your mom very much." Reid was about to add, _"_ _I know they had their problems,_ _"_ but he stopped himself; he didn't know how much Jack knew about his parents' marriage before Haley's death. "And when you love someone, you want to help them even if they're gone. I think helping your grandpa is something your dad wants to do very much because it's the only thing left he can still do for your mom.

"Not to mention, it's very hard to tell someone something you know is going to hurt them. I'm very sorry for how you found out, Jack. I don't have to imagine how scared you were, either before or after. People think if they don't tell their kids something horrible that they're sparing them, but - most of the time - kids know something is wrong, and if someone doesn't talk to them, they imagine all kinds of even worse things. I know I did before my dad finally told me about my mom.

"But, on the other hand, I know what it's like to have to tell someone that a loved one is gone. I still remember the first time. I had to tell a man his daughter was dead, and as much as I knew it was better for him to know for sure, I still felt terrible, because in a sense, I was the one hurting him. And no one ever wants to feel like that, especially not when it's their own son they're going to hurt."

Jack was quiet for a long time. "Do you think there's a heaven, Uncle Spencer?"

"I think there could be."

"So when Grandpa dies, maybe he'll be with Mommy?"

"I think that if there _is_ a heaven, then that's exactly what will happen."

Jack sighed. "Okay," he whispered.

Reid wanted to reassure Jack that his grandfather wasn't gone yet, and that he might have many more good years ahead of him, but he had no idea why Mr. Brooks had been taken to the hospital, and so he didn't want to get Jack's hopes up. Instead, he lead Jack back to the bullpen (blinking briefly at a sudden shadow darting away) and found a website for him that had stories from other kids coping with their grandparents having Alzheimer's. There were no good answers to give him, Reid reasoned, but at least he could help Jack see that he wasn't alone.

"Hey, Jack," he said as the boy browsed through a list of the way kids could help keep their grandparents calm.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you a couple of other things?"

"Sure, I guess," Jack said, not turning away from his reading.

"It's great that you want to help your grandpa, but it's okay if sometimes you still want to be a kid and go out and have fun with your friends."

Jack turned to face him and he was biting his lip, as if afraid to think Reid was right.

"And you know what else?"

"What?"

"This is going to sound like a very clichéd grown-up thing to say, but I think your dad and aunt Jess are probably feeling very discouraged because they can't help your grandpa right now. I bet if you talked to them and let them help you, it would help them."

"He's right," a voice said from behind them.

"Dad!" Jack yelled and raced to hug his father. "Is your meeting done?"

"Yep, just wrapped up."

" _Finally!_ _"_ Jack exclaimed, but Reid raised an anxious eyebrow at Hotch's words - the scraping chair and darting shadow in the cafeteria suddenly falling into place - and nervously wondered if he'd interfered in his superior's parenting of his son to breathtakingly forbidden degree.

But Hotch just smiled and thanked Reid for watching Jack. Father and son left then, and it wasn't until Reid was halfway home and sitting alone on the Metro that he began to re-examine the things he'd said to Jack that evening. If he was being honest, he didn't feel better for having opened up. What he felt was drained from the hours long unconscious tension of trying not to screw up Jack too badly by saying the wrong thing - drained and weary and aching from the rawness of the wound he'd opened up in himself. Perhaps because, for him at least, what he went through could never be changed, the darkness only scabbed over, he couldn't tell if he'd actually helped Jack or not, but as he got off at his stop, he fervently hoped that he had.

 _-x-_

 _The next day_ _…_

"Reid, wait up!" Hotch called from down the hall from the front entrance of the building leading to elevators.

"Oh, hi, Hotch. Is Jack okay this morning?"

"We had a long talk in the car driving home last night. By the way, I meant to apologize for not offering you a ride - "

"Don't worry about it. I know you and Jack had some pretty serious things to discuss. And I'm sorry if I butted in," Reid said, his speech speeding up as he began to worry once again that he'd over-stepped his bounds, "I had known your family emergency a few months back was about your father-in-law, but I didn't know it was anything permanent. You never mentioned to us about Mr. Brooks having Alzheimer's disease. But I swear I didn't tell Jack - he already knew. And things just came out as we were talking - "

"It's okay, Reid. Jack's feeling a lot better today and that's what I wanted to thank you for." The elevator doors opened and they got in.

"You were listening, weren't you?" Reid asked him once the doors were shut.

"Sorry, yes. I was going to go over when Jack talked about knowing that Roy is going to die, and I should have - you shouldn't have had to talk about your mother like that if it made you uncomfortable - but you jumped in and you were doing such a fantastic job of relating to him, that I just couldn't interrupt."

"Really?"

"Really," Hotch reassured him. "And I want to apologize too for not considering until I was home how much that conversation might have affected you as well."

Reid shrugged and Hotch managed to forbear mentioning that at the moment his subordinate was just as transparent as his son was when wanting to hide that something was wrong. To the older man's surprise however, Reid admitted to it. "It wasn't easy," he confided, "but it's something that's always going to be there. At least as long as Mom is ill."

The elevator opened on their floor and both men got out.

"I'm sorry about that, Spencer."

"I know. And thank you."

"I'll see you in the briefing room."

"Right."

Spencer turned to go to his desk while Hotch started off towards his office. The older man took two steps and then said, "Oh, and Reid?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for not being the running away type either."

.

* * *

 _My apologies if I've now depressed the daylights out of you. It seems like a very sad and pathetic thank you for all of your wonderful reviews for the last chapter._

 _Anyway, I've heard rumours that another cast member is leaving this season. I don't know if that's true, or who it is (if you know, don't tell me), but I wondered if it was Thomas Gibson, and so got to thinking how they might write him out. My theory is that they'll use his father-in-law's illness to give him a reason to take a promotion to Section Chief or higher, which he'll agree to because he'll feel bad about leaving so much of Jack's care to Jessica when she's now looking after her father as well._

 _But even if this isn't what will happen on the show, I might use it for "The Formation of Planets", which, yes, I am still working on, even though I'm having a heck of a time trying to control the next chapter._


	3. Chapter 3

**A Toss of the Coin**

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* * *

 **.**

.

Considering the labyrinth of successive waiting areas he'd spent the morning going through, his initial reaction was surprise that anyone had managed to track him down.

On the other hand, he reasoned, the dark, elegant hand on his shoulder and the soft voice saying, "Good morning, Spencer," did belong to a doctor, so really, who better to find their way around a hospital?

"Uh...hello, Savannah. What are you doing here?" She was dressed in casual clothes rather than scrubs, so he figured she was not on duty.

"Rossi called and asked me to come check on you."

"I thought you were working today."

"I was. I switched shifts."

"For _me?_ "

"Why not for you?" Savannah said with a gentle smile.

He couldn't help but shrug. "I'm not sure, I suppose. I mean you're obviously a kind and caring woman," he said. Then a thought occurred to him: "I didn't just insult you, did I?"

"By calling me kind and caring?" Savannah teased.

"No, I mean by assuming you wouldn't go out of your way for me."

"No, Spencer. Not at all. May I sit down?" she asked, gesturing to the chair beside him.

"What? Oh, yes. Of course. I'm sorry."

Savannah sat down and for a few minutes an awkward silence lay heavy between them. Reid was hyper-aware his leg was jiggling almost frantically with nervousness, but since Savannah hadn't made him feel self-conscious about apologizing over nothing, he figured she understood. _Probably sees it every day as a doctor,_ he thought. "So, Rossi, huh?" he finally asked to break the ice. "I take it them that the whole team has guessed by now?"

"That you lied about being too young to be tested?" She took a moment to think about it. "Honestly, I don't know," she eventually admitted. "They may have by now, seeing as you're missing a case. But I'm pretty sure Derek didn't know when he left this morning, and considering he wasn't the one to call me... As for the others, who knows? I'm not even completely sure Rossi has guessed the exact reason for your appointment; he just said it might be nice for you to have someone with you today. Specifically, someone who wasn't - and I quote - 'going to try and blow smoke up your ass.' I take it you've been enduring a lot of 'helpful' encouragement lately?"

Reid smiled weakly. "I love my team, and I know they truly mean well, but they keep feeding me some statistic or other - usually erroneous - that they've found after a five minute search on the internet. You know, as if I haven't read one hundred and eighteen books on the subject, or two hundred and thirty-seven of the latest research papers from the world's top experts, some of which are so recent they haven't even been published yet. But no, even with that, or my psych degree, or," and here it was a little hard to keep the rueful bitterness from twisting his voice, "the fact that I've been talking to psychologists, neurologists, biologists, and geneticists for either me or my mother for the last two decades, I might have overlooked this one little fact they 'tumbled onto' yesterday that makes everything better." He winced inwardly at the powerful wrench saying _geneticist_ still caused inside his chest; he hadn't thought he could have felt any worse at this exact moment, but the universe did seem to love to go out of its way to prove him wrong.

 _If there was one woman who would have understood... One woman I would have still considered marrying even if the results today turned out badly..._

"You know why they're doing that, don't you?" Savannah asked, pulling him back to the present moment.

"I do, yes. I don't blame them. I understand - they're my friends and they're scared to lose me. Of course they're going to seize on every little tidbit of information that gives them some hope. But, all the same, it hasn't been easy."

That was an understatement. One of the main reasons that he hadn't wanted to tell the team was that he needed some time to absorb the diagnosis himself, to let time distance him from those first devastating days, for the normal routine of everyday life to calm him and let him grow accustomed to 'normal' again before he had to deal with the others' reactions. After all, it's not as if he hadn't dealt with a similar threat before.

Well, no luck there. Almost everyday now there'd come a random moment - a moment where he'd usually just manged to push the whole thing to the back of his mind, hoping for an hour of peace, a moment where he'd feel on the verge of normal - when one of his team-mates would waltz up with another cheerful tip or misunderstood statistic (really, they should leave those to an expert, the hypocrites) along with a faux-playful admonition not to look so glum, and bring him right back to it. He, understanding their worry, would then smile dutifully and swallow down whatever new super-food or herbal supplement they insisted he try, and tell them how much better he felt. Then they would walk away, happy at thinking they'd cheered him up, but in truth leaving him feeling even more worn down and empty, and miserable at how little they understood.

"Is that why you snapped at Derek the other evening?"

Reid glanced at Savannah out of the corner of his eye. "This isn't some sneaky ambush to defend your man, is it?" he asked as a joke, then immediately worried if it sounded enough like a joke that Savannah would understand he didn't really mean to imply that's what he truly thought.

Savannah (luckily) laughed out loud. "No. I love the man, but Derek can be..." She waved a hand, trying to find the right word.

"Controlling, overbearing, pushy..."

She laughed again. "Pretty much. He... well, you know."

"He thinks that if he can run my life, he can protect me."

"Exactly. When he gets in protective mode, he's like a bear. A bear that will stomp you underfoot in his attempts to save you from the wolf."

"Funny, I always thought of him as a speeding train, one that will pull you along no matter what going that fast does to you. Or maybe a drill sergeant, who will steamroll over Italy just because you talked about getting a pizza."

"That too," Savannah agreed with a chuckle. Her voice was rueful, but as Reid looked at her, he saw that her eyes held nothing but love. Suddenly his chest was aching again and he concentrated on the flow of people brushing past their seats in the hospital corridor, hoping to distract himself. This wasn't the emergency room, or even the same floor, but he still felt conspicuous and in the way as the staff worked around them with the typical purposeful urgency of doctors and nurses, even those who were merely getting coffee or pinning things to the bulletin board.

It was then that his wandering eyes fell on a wild-haired, hospital-gowned figure shuffling drunkenly towards them, her scared, searching look betraying that she had no idea where she was. Reid froze. Two nurses quickly and competently intercepted the woman and lead her away, but not before Reid's mouth went impossibly dry.

Savannah said something, but Reid didn't catch it. "I'm sorry, what was that again?"

"Why didn't you ask any other members of the team to come with you today? I mean, Derek I get, but why not ask J.J. or Penelope?" she repeated calmly. From her micro-expressions, Reid could tell she'd noticed his distraction, but she didn't mention it, for which he was grateful.

"I don't know. Well, I suppose I do know. Garcia would be too emotional. If Blake was still on the team, I might have asked her, but not now, not after learning what she went through with her son. Hotch and Rossi would have ironically been too stoic, not emotional enough."

"Too stoic?"

"I can't explain it. It's just sometimes, when you're really nervous, someone else's calm can be extraordinarily nerve-wracking." He slumped a bit in his chair. "Who knows? Maybe it's nothing more than feeling the pressure to emulate the behaviour."

She put her hand on top of his and squeezed gently. He didn't know if anyone had told her about his aversion to touch - though she seemed to considerate of a person to ignore such a thing if she did know - but funnily enough, it didn't seem to matter. He didn't mind today. "And J.J.?" she asked softly.

"J.J..." he began, and then trailed off, unaware that he'd started drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair. "J.J. has this way of saying things as if they're a given. I don't know, maybe it's her 'mom' voice, though that's not quite it. She has good intentions, but she's sometimes a little too _pat_ , if you know what I mean. A little too polished, maybe from her days of being the press liaison. She sounds so good, people don't realize that she may be lying or that she doesn't necessarily know what she's talking about. She goes for reassurance first, not honesty. And that's not necessarily a bad thing, but it's the _why_ of it that's a little aggravating."

He sighed. "You know what her own mother once said to me? She said that 'avoidance is a Jareau family trait', and I think that's what this is. Don't get me wrong, in most ways J.J. is an immensely strong woman, but at other times she's... well, an avoider. She can be comforting and has the courage to face most problems square in the face, but deep at heart, she doesn't like emotional messes and unconsciously seems to do her best to stay away from them. I wonder occasionally if it's something to do with her sister's death, but there it is.

"In any case, again, I get why she's doing it in this case - she doesn't want to face losing a friend - but that means she can't fully be there for me either, because she won't face what my odds actually are. For some reason, she thinks I only have a four percent chance of developing Alzheimer's. And she doesn't even say it like Garcia and Morgan do, who are sort of annoyingly hopeful. No, with J.J. once she's pointed something out like a kindhearted big sister, then it's almost as if I'm being slightly silly thinking of any other outcome.

"And she keeps talking about my having kids," he went on when Savannah merely looked at him patiently. "I understand what she means about leaving myself open to the possibility, and theoretically I even agree with her - I mean, it's not like I'm not going to consider it - but what _she_ doesn't seem to consider is how much time I _have_ spent thinking about. Or about how much I know of what all this entails."

He leaned back with a groan and wearily ran his fingers through his hair. "Or maybe she has and she just wants to make sure I see the other side."

Savannah was silent for a few moments, then she quietly asked, "So if you get bad news today, does that mean you've decided to never have children?"

He could feel tears threatening at his eyes. "I haven't decided," was all he said. "What do you think?"

"As your friend, I'm heartbroken at the idea of you closing the door on the idea, but as a doctor, I understand the logic. Derek's already making plans on how to get you through the adoption process, but - "

"But I'm a single man with a dangerous job and possibly _two_ severe neurological conditions, either of which could render me incapable of taking care of myself, let alone a child, in as little as a year from now. The team talks about my adopting a child as if there's not still a process to go through, as if it's as easy as going to the mall and saying, 'Hey, can I have that kid on the top shelf? The one next to the peanut butter?' Whether or not they actually believe that, I don't know, but realistically speaking, the odds of any agency approving me are miniscule, and, even if they did, it's unlikely any mother putting her baby up for adoption would choose me."

Savannah nodded grimly.

"It's all right, you know. I mean, if I have the gene, I wouldn't adopt even I could."

"No?"

"No. What it comes down to isn't what genes I'd pass on to a child, but what kind of life I could give them. With a biological child, I could possibly get around the genetic dangers with pre-implantation screening, and with an adoptive child I would avoid it completely, but what good does that do them - either of them - if I end up being unable to raise them? Or if I end up trapping into the role of care-giver? Bad enough for a child I didn't plan on, but to knowingly choose that? Especially with an adoptive child who likely has already had a lifetime's worth of unstable homes? It's almost like those people in previous centuries who used to adopt kids for nothing more than cheap servants or unpaid farm hands instead of loving them as their new children."

"It wouldn't be like that with you. You don't have it in you to be that kind of person, Spencer."

"I wouldn't intend to, but practically speaking, what would be the difference? I can give you the stats, you know. How nearly sixty percent of Alzheimer's and dementia care-givers rate themselves as extremely stressed. How forty percent suffer from Depression. That in 2014, the physical and emotional toll on care-givers for these two diseases caused them to have an additional 9.7 _billion_ dollars in additional health care costs _of their own_ , even apart from the drain the patient puts on their finances.

"I also know that roughly two hundred and fifty thousand children between the ages of eight and eighteen provide some kind of help to people with Alzheimer's or dementia. _Eight._ Henry will be eight in November. Every time I look at him, I can't help but think: is this the life you'd want to give him?"

Reid's gaze rested on a poster advertising free flu shots on the wall across from him, but he didn't see it. "But forget the stats. The thing that really brings my dreams of a family to a crashing halt is that I _know_ what the life is. I love my mother, I do, but I can't help but hate and resent her too. There's so much more I could have done, so much more I wanted to do but couldn't, and all because I was tied down to her.

"Most days I can live with that, but others..." He turned to look at Savannah. "If I had to pick the feeling most prevalent in my life, the one that defines my day-to-day experience, do you know what it would be?"

Savannah shook her head.

"Exhaustion. Every _day_ , that's all I ever seem to feel. Sometimes there's accomplishment, or pride, or relief if a case has gone well, but underlying it all is _always_ exhaustion and heartache.

"So how can I lay that on another human being? A _child_? J.J. asked me the other day if it shouldn't be up to the other person to decide what burdens they're willing to carry, and to some extent she's right - at least for a potential spouse - but it's up to me to decide what kind of man I should be, and frankly, I don't think I have it in me to be that much of a bastard."

His companion didn't know what to say to that, so she wisely kept quiet.

"And, like I said, that's really only true for a spouse - an adult who presumably can make an informed decision. But for a child? That's idiotic! What choice does a child have about what family it's born into? Or adopted into? No, the team can deal in potentialities and probabilities all they want, but I don't have that luxury. I already have one dependent, not to mention a possible ticking clock over my head. With a limited number of potential earning years, I _have_ to think and plan for the future. And if I _do_ have the gene, then bringing a child into this mess would just be cruel."

Savannah took his hand in both of hers. "But at least they'd be alive. They'd exist. Wouldn't that be worth it?"

"To whom, me or them?"

"Would you have rather never been born?"

"Yes."

The two sat quietly for a long time.

 _-x-_

Savannah handed him a coffee, one from across the street and not the hospital cafeteria. "Who are you to decide who gets born?"

"Who decides how any child gets born? Either the child is conceived accidentally, or his or her parents made a consciously decided to try and have a baby. I'm the person to decide because I'm the person who's in place to make the decision in the first place. Saying I don't have the right _not_ to have children is ridiculous. Everyone has that right. Abortion is a trickier question admittedly, but to decide _before_ a child is conceived is just being responsible."

"But you don't know what their life would be like. Not for sure. All I meant is you shouldn't decide based on what you think their life might be."

"At this point in time, what other criteria do I have? I can only go with the odds. And I know the odds, Savannah. You do too. Look, with my mother being diagnosed, I've got a fifty/fifty chance of carrying the genes, correct?"

"And _if_ you carry the genes, yes, there's a strong probability - "

"The medical journals I read called it a virtual guarantee," Reid interrupted.

"That's sloppy and misleading terminology," Savannah protested.

"Is it?"

She opened her mouth to argue automatically, but didn't. Realistically, he wasn't wrong. "All right, if you carry the gene, it's a strong probability that you will develop the condition," she finished.

"So essentially, I have close to a fifty/fifty chance of developing early-onset familial Alzheimer's disease or eFAD."

"Yes," Savannah grudgingly admitted.

"And Alzheimer's disease has a mortality rate of a hundred percent."

"Well, yes, _now._ But you don't know what will happen by the time you develop it."

"Perhaps, but since eFAD can hit as early as a person's late twenties, the fact is I could wake up tomorrow and start displaying symptoms. However, in any case, speaking of _right now_ , I have a fifty/fifty chance of surviving the next twenty years. So, getting back to the odds, I only have a fifty/fifty chance of living long enough and being well enough to care for a child throughout his or her entire childhood, and that's providing of course that I father one pretty much today."

"Spencer..."

"And that's forgetting the fact that my odds are only fifty/fifty because, as of yet, I don't know if I carry the genes. If I do carry them, then those odds essentially go down to almost zero."

"There are things you can do..."

"Like exercise more? Eat more vegetables?"

"Well..."

"Savannah, let's be honest: Alzheimer's disease is the only cause of death in the top ten in America that cannot be prevented, cured, or slowed. You either die _from_ it or _with_ it. And eFAD is not like late-onset, which by the way, I'd be thrilled if you could make Morgan understand. Late-onset is more likely due to a gradual accumulation of age-related malfunctions, so yes, it is something that possibly could be altered with life-style changes. But eFAD is entirely the consequence of malfunctioning genes. And...and either I have them, or I don't." He could feel his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. "Please, Savannah..." His voice broke. "Please don't be like the team! I can't take pretending anymore! And I know they'd say I didn't have to if they were here, but they make it hard for me to do anything else."

He pulled his hand away from her, shifting in his seat to increase the distance between them. Wiping his eyes, he took a deep breath and got himself together. "So how, in good conscience, could I choose to foist that burden on a child? To steal their childhood away and force them to play nursemaid for years? To leave them penniless after years of medical bills? To _knowingly_ give them a parent for only a handful of years, only to then leave them to the horrors of foster care? And worst of all, to gift them with the anguish of watching their very own father forget them, as if they never existed at all? That it's not just his life that would be lost, but the memories of their time together?"

"You might get married," Savannah lamely tried to argue.

"Spouses run out. Nobody knows how hard long-term care is until they do it. And even if she didn't, what would I be doing to her? Condemning her to years of caring for an invalid who no longer even remembers her name, all while she's trying to simultaneously raise a child? And while we can screen for Alzheimer's, we can't reliably screen for schizophrenia, which is also lurking around the corner waiting to jump out. And children as young as six are now being diagnosed, so it's theoretically possible that any wife of mine would have not only me, but my mother _and_ a sick child to care for."

"You're focusing on the worst case scenario."

Reid grimaced. "I have to. I can't responsibly _not_ consider everything before I think about bringing a child into this world."

He watched as Savannah regarded him closely for several minutes. He saw the realization dawn on her face. "But you _haven't_ decided against it, have you?" She smiled. "All these arguments - you're trying to talk yourself out of what you really want. You still very much want a child."

He bit his lip. "Do you think that's a bad thing? Am I a selfish person for still even thinking about it?"

She put a hand to the back of his head and pulled him close to kiss him on the forehead. "No, sweetie. In fact, I think it's a good idea. As long as you have a chance to live, a chance to go on, things will work out one way or another. It may end in disaster, it's true, but it's the chance that's important.

"And let me tell you something, Spencer Reid: as long as Derek and I are together, no child of yours will ever go to foster care."

He couldn't trust his voice. Tears finally fell. _"Really?"_ he whispered.

"We all may be clumsy with our comfort, but we're _all_ here," she whispered back and hugged him close.

 _-x-_

Later that night, Savannah Hayes was once again dealing with yet another of Derek's drunken team-mates. And the reason for this was every more happy than the last time.

Of course, that's not to say Morgan wasn't very confused when he called just before bed and was asked by a laughing and more-than-a-little-tipsy girlfriend that wasn't it wonderful that they'd never have to take Spencer's children!

.

* * *

 _Okay, some notes:_

 _First off, my apologies for the grim tone of the story. Hopefully, the ending made up for it, but if you or a loved one are facing this dread disease, please remember that I am no way a doctor, scientist, or smart person. Despite Reid's annoyance at his friends getting things off the net, that is in fact where I got all of my facts. The sites I used were the Alzheimer's Association and the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services/National Institute on Aging._

 _So why did I write it? Well, there have already been a couple of truly excellent and inspiring stories written about this matter, but I wanted to present a story that featured more of what Reid was going through. I hope I didn't take away too much from the strength of his character (naturally he'd be more nervous on the day of getting results), because I truly believe, as he points out in the story, he would find his equilibrium with nothing more than a little time._

 _But mostly I wrote this because I think that Reid was lying on the show when he told Morgan he couldn't be tested now. I've got a few reasons that may later turn out to be moronic, but here they are:_

 _1) He is old enough to get the disease, so it seemed strange to me that he would not be old enough to be tested for it. (Indeed, I once watched a very sad video of a woman who was several years younger than him and who died of the disease.)_

 _2) Again, I'm not a scientist, and my research consists of an hour or two on the net (in which I didn't even look into chromosomes), but genes are genes. Either they're there or they're not. What would age have to do with it?_

 _3) With what I did read on the net, I never saw any suggestion that you had to be a certain age to be tested. In fact, I believe on the Alzheimer's Association website there was the story of a thirty-six year old man being tested. There was also a mention of pre-implantation screening, suggesting every zygotes (embryos?) can be tested even before they're placed in the womb, possibly even before fertilization, so how could Reid possibly be too young?_

 _4) It fits his character to want privacy. And,_

 _5) How old is old enough? Forty? That's another six years for the character. I doubt the show is going to last that long, so either Reid is lying OR the show's writers are heartless scumbags who are going to leave us with a devastating dilemma THAT THEY KNOW WILL BE UNRESOLVED WHEN THE SHOW ENDS. Now, I won't rule out Hollywood callously leaving us with such a crappy payback for eleven years of emotional investment, but if that happens, I want to let the show know that I WILL BURN TELEVISIONLAND TO THE GROUND! (Metaphorically, but still!)_

 _Anyway, I hope you're not too traumatized by all this! And I promise that my next chapter only has a thirty percent chance of being about Alzheimer's._


	4. Chapter 4

_Okay, after the previous chapters I desperately needed something happy, so I thought of this. However, it will need a little bit of explaining to anyone who hasn't read "The Formation of Planets". This is a little missing scene from that story (which isn't yet finished, sorry!), that I included here because I want to keep that story mostly about Reid and Rossi. TFOP is an AU where Reid and Rossi find out they're father and son, which yes, is a soap-opera plot extraordinaire, but fun anyway. However, what you will need to know for this story (beyond the obvious AU nature of it), is a) Reid has left the team, and b) he moved to Asia and on the way met Linda Kimura again and is now in a relationship with her. Also, I've made the character of Linda younger than the actress herself, for reasons which will become apparent in the story._

 _._

 **Pluto**

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* * *

 **.**

"I'm just saying," Reid commented, tugging apart the knot of his tie, "that it's not the way I'd want to find out."

Linda, removing her earrings and putting them in a box on top of the dresser, completely agreed with him, but still asked him why.

Reid dropped down wearily to sit on the bed and pondered the question for a moment. "I don't know. I suppose, first off, because it diminishes the role of the father somehow. Look at tonight - your friend's husband was essentially regulated to just another person in the room. Finding out at the same time as four dozen other people - as if he had no more importance in the equation than any one of them - or even later. I mean, I'd never met Rob in my life before tonight, but I found out he was going to be a father before he did! How's he going to feel about that once he figures it out?"

"Well Amy is more an acquaintance than a friend," Linda said a bit ruefully, flopping down lightly to lay on the bed. She tugged gently at Spencer's sleeve to pull him down beside her. "Ugh. I'm exhausted. Let's just sleep in our clothes."

"That's even worse. We barely know these people and yet we were witness to one of the most profound moments of their lives. And it's too warm to sleep in our clothes."

"That's because you're a man and men get to wear shirts, vests, and jackets. I'm freezing and will be perfectly comfortable under the covers in this," Linda pointed out, smacking him playfully on the arm. "But as for tonight's big revelation, don't you feel even a little bit honoured to be included in that profound moment?"

"Not particularly," Reid replied, getting up again to remove the rest of his suit. "Call me old school," he said, as Linda came up to him and turned so that he could unzip her dress, "but I think planning a party around the announcement would actually take something away from the moment rather than otherwise."

"What if the guest list was limited to people much closer to the expecting couple?"

"Maybe. But again, they weren't presenting the news as a couple, were they? Amy hogged the entire moment as if the news were hers alone to share."

"That really bothered you, didn't it?" Linda asked, turning around to examine him more closely.

Reid sighed. "I get that she'll play the biggest role in the whole thing, but they're supposedly bringing a child into the world _together._ Am I crazy to therefore think they should have made the announcement together? At the very least, Amy completely stole Rob's chance of being the one to tell his family. Maybe I'm selfish, but if I were about to be a father, I'd want to be at least in on telling Dave and my mother."

A small and dreamy small graced his face, a smile that gave Linda pause. "Honestly, in fact," he told her shyly, "that's something I'm really looking forward to."

"So, are those the only reasons you wouldn't want to be surprised with the news at a party?"

Reid shrugged. "The main ones, I suppose. I'd also hate the whole idea of being forced to display my first reactions in front of entire crowd, no matter how close to me they were, but that's just my personality. What if I react badly? Or not enough? Emotions come out in strange ways after all. Or I could simply be tired, or in a rotten mood, or maybe just feeling less than confident, who knows? But now I've got a bunch of people around me, _staring_ at me, and judging me on the quality of my reaction."

"Rob seemed happy enough."

"Not if someone was looking at his micro-expressions."

"Oh no!"

"Don't worry, I think he was freaked out more than unhappy, but that's another point. Amy apparently had close to a month to adjust to the news privately. It seems a little unfair to Rob that he wasn't given the same courtesy."

Linda sighed and, now in her negligee, turned down the covers of the bed and lay back down. "All in all, I have to say that I completely agree with you."

"You do?" Reid asked, getting into bed and snuggling up close to her.

"I've always been a little iffy on the whole surprise birth announcement thing, but I put it down to my age."

"Of course, because you're obviously decrepit."

"Jackass," Linda laughed and smacked him on the arm again. "No, I just mean... I don't know. I guess it's because I went through adolescence before smartphones and Youtube and Facebook and the hundred other kinds of social media out there. Frankly, I just don't get the appeal of sharing every single moment with half the world. And I think that translates to Amy's party tonight. Everything has to be an event, to be dressed up somehow. Everything an announcement to an adoring crowd, whether that crowd is right there or on the net." Linda placed an arm on Spencer's chest and rested her chin on her hand to look at him. "Maybe it's me. I mean, I understand that people are different and for most people the first impulse is a genuine desire to share the happy news immediately, that it's joy and not vanity that makes them want to burst out in a big explosion of celebration, but for me, a big party like that would lessen the moment. Everyone talks about 'making it special' as if the news was momentous enough. Dressing it up suggests that it's something that _needs_ to be dressed up. Not to mention, well, I've always been one to believe that privacy enhances intimacy. As much as I love our families, is it weird to think that some memories should be for us and us alone?"

Spencer brushed a lock of hair away from Linda's eyes. "Secret joys for the two of us to share for all the years to come," he agreed.

"So how _would_ you like to find out?" Linda asked.

Reid squeezed her tighter and she lay her head in the crook of his shoulder. "Ideally? Sitting on the bed with my arms wrapped around you while we each stared at the test, waiting for it to change, experiencing all the nervousness and eager anticipation _together_."

Linda tilted her head back to kiss him. "I'll remember that."

 _-x-_

Some hours later, in the deepest part of the night, Spencer woke up abruptly. No nightmare or noise to explain it, simply one moment his eyes were closed and the next they were open. Moonlight was streaming through the window and he could see that Linda remained curled up against him in the same position they fell asleep in, but still he could tell that she was wide awake.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly.

"How come we never had this conversation before?"

"You mean about how I want to find out I'm going to become a father? I assume because your friend's party was the first time we attended such a thing together."

She chuckled, but he could hear the worry behind it. "I'm sorry. I wasn't being terribly clear, was I? I mean about children in general."

"I guess I didn't know if you wanted to talk about it yet."

She sat up, and though her voice sounded calm, he could tell from her posture and the way she looked away from him that something was bothering her. "I suppose I never really considered until tonight how much you wanted children," she began.

A cold thread laced its way through his stomach. "And you don't?"

"Truthfully, I've never really considered it since Stephen died. We had planned on it, but then he was gone so quick, and afterwards I tried to convince myself that it was okay. That it made things less complicated, less painful, that there hadn't been..." Spencer saw her shiver. "Now I'm worried that I succeeded too well."

"So you don't want kids?"

"I don't know. I'm very confused right now. But what if I didn't?"

Reid pulled himself up and leaned against the headboard. "It would be lying to say I wouldn't be disappointed. But... this is going to sound weird... _you're_ the prize here, Lin. I want children, but I want to be with you more. I'm not with you because I'm feeling broody and you've got the requisite anatomy to give me what I want, or because I've got some dream of domesticity with soccer games and a house with a white picket fence and you're the first woman I've met who might be willing to give it a go with me."

"But - "

"No." He moved to where she had to look at him. "You, Linda Kimura, sitting right here next to me in bed, just like this, fifty even sixty years from now - that's what I want. More than anything. Even more than kids. That's my dream. I know disagreement in this matter could possibly cause problems later, but as far as I'm concerned, there is no way it's enough to make me give up on this. If it's between having you and having a family with some woman I love less, that's no trade-off. You win every time."

"What if it turns out you love her more?"

"What if I don't?"

"Spencer..."

"Linda, look, because of my mother's schizophrenia, I've spent almost my entire life with a huge 'what if' hanging over my head. Every day I tried to come to terms with the fact that there are some things we just can't know in advance, so _I know_ it's hard, but we can only go on with what we know now, and I know that I love you. I know beyond all doubt that I want a life with you. Maybe we're not ready to be married yet, but for me, that's the direction I want to be headed in."

Linda rubbed a thumb along the top of Spencer's hand. "Maybe waiting isn't the best course."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not exactly a spring chicken, Spencer. A woman's chances of conception fall off dramatically after age thirty-five, and I'll be forty-one in a few months."

"Is that what this is really all about?"

"Some of it."

He leaned forward, kissing her tenderly on the temple. "Lin, I've spent most of my life believing that the best way for me to have a child would be through adoption. Ironically, I didn't even consider otherwise until I found out that _I_ was adopted. Either way, it means I'm more than fine with the idea. In fact, after seeing so many foster kids and kids in terrible homes during my time with the BAU, it might be an option to consider no matter if we can conceive a child or not. But one thing I'm not going to consider is rushing to have kids just because there's a clock hanging over our heads. Having a child is something we should never regret for even the slightest reason. Not if we can help it, anyway."

Linda reached out and cupped his cheek with her hand. After a long, lingering kiss, she whispered in his ear, "Whoever was it who told you that you weren't good with emotions? They must have been idiots."

Reid smiled and the two came together for something more enjoyable than sleep.

 _-x-_

 _Seven months later..._

They sat on the bed together, Linda nestled tight against him. They were both biting their lips as they stared at the object in her hand.

"Well." It was all he could say.

"Well," she repeated.

"Well," he said again, practically vibrating with happiness.

Small giggles began to bubble out of both of them. Spencer reached out so that their hands, touching, both held the test. He felt giddy, like he was drunk on champagne or his head was going to float away, but it was with a growing awe as well that he breathed out, "The three of us. We're _the three of us_ now." He spared a brief second to think about how heartily glad he was there was no one else there with them; other people, no matter how loving, would only have distracted him from the indescribable mix of solemnity and wild happiness that was filling every inch of him. The very next second he pictured how wonderful it was going to be for he and Linda to be sitting side by side as they told Dave over Skype.

" _The three of us_ ," Linda whispered back, sounding completely amazed. Then, like a sudden cloudburst, she erupted in a storm of joyful tears and exuberant laughter.

Like kids themselves, they didn't know what to do with their excitement. Jumping up, Spencer spun Linda around and they laughed louder and louder, sounding like complete loons.

Reid stopped abruptly and grinned.

"What is it?" Linda asked.

"You know that story I told you about what I said to Dave when I first agreed to try and build a relationship with him as father and son? About the planets?"

"Yes."

"Let's tell him we're naming the baby 'Pluto'!"

.

* * *

 _Well, there you go! Hope you enjoyed it!_

 _I'd like to thank everyone who has read and/or reviewed. I think I PM'd almost everyone who reviewed last chapter (not something I do a lot, but I felt like it then), except for two I couldn't contact. So thank you to SpenceFTW and even to you, Guest. I'm sorry you didn't enjoy the piece, Guest, but it's always good to get feedback. And I appreciate your politeness in the fact that you stuck to criticizing the story itself instead of getting personal._

 _Thanks everyone!_

 _Oh, and P.S. - they're not REALLY naming the baby Pluto, though that might it's nickname until it's born..._


	5. Chapter 5

_This will probably be contradicted by the upcoming episode on Wednesday, but here it is..._

.

 **Venus**

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

A tap tap sounded on the door just as a shy (and completely redundant) "Knock, knock," was spoken and Savannah smiled as a bashful Reid poked his head around the corner.

"Spencer! How nice to see you. Come on in."

"Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly, trying to peer into the bundle in her arms. "I'm not interrupting somebody's nap, am I?"

"No, no, it's fine," she assured him. "The baby's asleep."

"What about Morgan? Is this family time?"

"His mother and mine dragged him to the cafeteria for some coffee. And you are family, so don't you worry about that."

"Really? Because I received very explicit instructions about not intruding or about over-staying my welcome."

"From who?"

"Uh, well, everybody."

"Well, pay no attention and get in here!"

Finally entering the room, Reid placed a pink gift bag on the table by the window, looked around and smiled. "I see Garcia's been by."

Savannah chuckled softly. "I didn't think she could possibly get more excited than when she found out Derek and I were having a baby, but, well... Oh, and congratulations. I heard you won the bet."

Reid smirked. "Considering the slight statistical inclination for parents having a girl, for some inexplicable reason it was the office long shot."

"Probably because Derek's done nothing but talk about a boy since he found out I was pregnant."

"Maybe, but what I'm confused about is why the rest of the building just assumed he was right. When did Morgan become the mystical oracle of baby genders? But hey, it worked out great for me."

"In other words, you cleaned up."

Reid's smirk grew. "I did."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you think Derek's disappointed in not getting a son?"

Reid blinked at her, completely taken aback. "Are you kidding? Rossi says that if Morgan's head floats anymore into the clouds he's in danger of being caught in a jet engine. I've never seen Derek like he's been for the last twenty-four hours."

"It's just that he was so adamant that we were having a boy..."

"Did he tell you why? I mean, did he tell you about seeing his father when he was abducted?"

"That's why I kind of wondered. He explained the image of his father as part of his mind trying to help him stay calm and find solutions, but if that's true -"

"Then wouldn't his father's prediction simply be an unconscious expression of his own desire?" Reid finished.

Savannah nodded.

Reid pondered the question for a moment. "I don't think it's anything that easy. The big, macho FBI guy who can only feel manly if he fathers a son doesn't read as Morgan. He's more secure than that. In fact, I think he's going be a great father to a little girl. He'll drive her crazy as a teenager when he goes into overprotective mode, but otherwise I can't see him being any more thrilled to have a little boy than he is with his beautiful little girl.

"There could be other reasons for his dream, though," Reid continued.

"Such as?" Savannah asked hopefully.

Reid shrugged. "Maybe insecurity. A lot of men worry about what kind of fathers they're going to make, and they think things will be easier with a boy, that they'll be better able to relate to boy because they know what it's like to be one. Or it could be that after his father's death, Morgan was surrounded by women and girls - his mom, his aunt, his sisters, his cousin Cyndi - maybe he was hoping to even out the sides a little. But..."

"What is it?"

"I don't know for sure, but if you want to know what I think it really is, it's his dad."

"His dad?"

"I think he wanted the image of his dad to be more than his imagination. If his dad's prediction had been right, it... well, it would leave open the possibility that..."

"His dad was really there," Savannah finished quietly. "That Hank was more than just something he conjured out of his mind to help himself."

Reid nodded.

"Thank you, Spencer," Savannah said. "I think I understand more now."

"I'm glad I could help."

"Hey, would you like to hold your god-daughter?"

"Really? Don't get me wrong, I'm not turning it down," he rushed to say, "but Morgan said you had a lot of people on your side campaigning for the job too."

"Sure, but none of them were so instrumental in saving Derek," Savannah explained as she handed over her slumbering daughter. "If you hadn't told him about the way to treat white phosphorus burns, or if you hadn't taken that shot..." She breathed in deep, trying to regain her composure after the sudden vision of what could have been, and then looked at him. "Was that hard for you? Shooting that man, I mean?"

An enraptured Reid didn't look up from staring at his new god-child. "Would it disturb you if I said, 'Not even one little bit'?"

"Not for a moment."

"We're all set then, aren't we, baby?" Reid said to his god-daughter. It was only then that he looked up at Savannah. "Still no name yet?"

"We thought we were having a boy, remember? We've got a blue nursery that needs to be re-done too."

Reid turned his gaze back to the baby. "I wouldn't worry about the nursery - the whole blue for boys and pink for girls is just an advertising ploy from the '20s. And as for the name, I guess it's a good thing you _are_ a girl, sweetie."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, Morgan said he wanted to name your son after his dad."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing really, it's just that 'Hank' is generally a nickname for Henry. And if I've got three god-children and two ended up being named the same thing, people would think I had _really_ unimaginative friends."

Savannah started to shake with silent laughter. "Good thing she is a girl then. Poor Michael would feel left out. So, any suggestions?"

"One or two," Reid admitted as he reverently traced a gentle finger along the baby's cheek, but there was something unreadable in his tone.

"Are they names you were thinking of if you had daughters?"

"Grace."

"I'm sorry, I didn't - "

"I like Grace," Reid said a little more loudly. "She's so dainty - I think it suits her. And it suggests the idea of blessings or favors of God. I'm not particularly religious, but I find that somehow reassuring. And Noelle. I like the name Noelle. It's French, exotic but simple in its elegance, and makes people think of Christmas."

"Grace Noelle," Savannah sighed as she peered lovingly at her daughter's tiny, angelic face. "Why did you have to tell me them? They're perfect!"

"If they're perfect, why was it wrong to suggest them?"

"Oh, Spencer, I can't steal your names! I can see how special they are to you."

Reid looked intently at the baby in his arms and then looked at her mother. "Then she should have them, if you and Derek want that. It could be my gift to her, and a gift means more if it's something dear to you."

Savannah felt tears come to her eyes. "Are you sure?"

Reid smiled as he looked at the baby again. "My god-daughter deserves nothing but the best! Besides," he added, "I could always name any daughter I have Noelle Grace. Not to mention, think of how jealous the rest of the team is going to be if I get to be godfather AND name the baby!"

.

* * *

 _This little scene was a bolt from the blue this morning, so if it feels a bit rushed, that's the reason. But the idea of Morgan being wrong about the baby's gender has been with me ever since "Derek", so when this jumped into my head, it dug its claws in and wouldn't let go. Also, the BAU seems to have a surplus of boys already. Except for Rossi's daughter Joy, who was introduced to us as an adult, (and Kate's niece Meg, if you want to stretch things a bit), everyone has had a boy. Rossi, Blake, and Hotch all either had or have boys. J.J. has two boys. We don't know what Kate had, but since Jennifer Love Hewitt had a boy in real life, it's likely the character's baby would have been a boy. And Rossi's only grandchild is a boy. I'm not saying this as a strident feminist, but as a bored viewer. And seriously, Morgan would be a great dad to a girl, so why not change things up? I suppose from a story-telling perspective, tying in Morgan's relationship with his father to his and his future child would be thought to be a bit more poignant if he was having a son himself, but still, seeing as Morgan's first daydream had a boy AND a girl, why not go another way? Or maybe it will be twins. Who knows?_

 _Of course, this is ignoring the end of "The Sandman". So really, this story is AU in any case, since I've decided to ignore whatever tragedy may be in the works. Here everything ends happily._


End file.
